


Marvel Quick Fics

by GutterBall



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Snark, Sorry?, not much smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've been on a weird "short fic" kick on tumblr lately, probably because I'm in a play and don't have time (or brain space) to write on longer works at the moment. Anyway, these are mostly for people who asked for something specific or needed a pick-me-up on a crummy day. One is just because I wanted to write Rhonda.</p><p>I'll try to title appropriately and add the relationship (not all are shippy; some are just brOTPs) so you can skip any you're not into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starlight on Metal - Steve and Bucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadedink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/gifts), [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for [fadedink](http://istandwithsgtbarnes.tumblr.com/), who wanted a little cheering up. Always happy to oblige for you, darlin.

This was the second time Steve had awakened to find the Winter Soldier crouched on the foot of his bed. The first time… yeah. He blew it. He was just so relieved, so surprised, so….

His lunge and gasp of the old name had sent the Soldier out the window so fast there was no sign of him by the time Steve reached the window, half-thinking to follow him. He caught himself, though, and swore out loud – just in case the Soldier was near enough to hear – that he wouldn’t do it again. He was just surprised. Please come back, whoever you are.

That was three months ago.

This time, he knew the second he awoke that someone was in his room, and before he even opened his eyes, he knew who. His entire body tensed as he fought the urge to lurch forward and grab the Soldier in a stupid, smothering hug. This man had damn near killed him – or had, at least, come as close as anything else since the serum – and, despite some potentially misplaced urge to save instead of slaughter, might well be here to try it all over again.

But Steve didn’t think so. The Winter Soldier would’ve been better served killing Captain America in his sleep. Awake, there would be a fight, which might get noisy, which might result in outside interference and more attention than it was worth. Inefficient. Not the Soldier’s style.

Forcing himself still, he looked down through the dark at the dim outline of that metal arm in the sparse starlight from the open window. “What should I call you?”

His voice was barely more than a whisper, deliberately non-emotional, deliberately non-confrontational. He didn’t want the Soldier to run.

No response.

_Don’t fidget. Don’t fidget. Don’t fidget. And, for God’s sake, don’t be a punk._

“Are you… all right? Not hurt or anything?”

“Haven’t been in a fight.” The voice was rusty from disuse, but it was undeniably Bucky’s.

Steve shivered. “Good. Hungry?”

A sigh. “Goddammit, Steve.”

That wasn’t the Soldier. That was Bucky Goddamn Barnes. Steve’s heart jumped into his throat, choking him.

“I’m not a homeless waif. I can feed my damn self.”

Risking a bit with his old friend sounding so much like a gruff, irritated version of himself, Steve slowly sat up and scooted back to lean against the headboard. He made no move to turn on the light. If Bucky wanted the light on, it’d already be on.

“Forgive me for being concerned about my best friend, you jerk.” He winced. So much for not being a punk.

Luckily, the Soldier just shifted to sit on the bed’s corner instead of crouching there. Still poised for a quick exit, but… less hair-trigger. Steve felt himself unspooling a bit in response.

“I’m not him, you know.”

His fingers absently fiddled with the edge of his favorite quilt. “Sound an awful lot like him.” But he didn’t want to project, didn’t want to accidentally push him away. “So… you never did answer. What should I call you?”

More silence, but Steve was determined not to break it this time. It was perhaps the most difficult thing he’d ever done. More difficult even than not punching Stark in the face, like, every other day, just out of exasperation.

Finally: “Still working on that. I’ll… get back to you.”

Relief warred with a moment’s dread that the conversation might already be over. He wasn’t ready for that yet. For another several months of wondering what he should’ve done, if he could’ve said or done something to keep Bucky here. Where Steve needed him. Selfishly needed him.

He was surprisingly okay with being selfish, just this once. If it kept Bucky here. But not against his will.

_Dammit._

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll be here. When you figure it out.” His jaw clenched to keep any more words inside. They’d be useless pleas for his friend not to go.

A sigh, and that broad, starlit shoulder sagged a bit. “Steve….”

He swallowed hard. He was a selfish bastard. Always had been when it came to Bucky. Orders hadn’t mattered. The war hadn’t mattered. His own life hadn’t mattered. Only Bucky ever mattered.

“…If you ask me to stay, I will.”

There went his heart, choking him all over again. “Is that what you want?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Steve wished with everything in him that he could make out the Soldier’s expression. There just wasn’t enough light. Or what light there was seemed magnetically drawn to the metal arm instead of the face he so needed to see right now.

“But it’s what _you_ want. And if I remember right, that’s pretty much all I ever cared about.”

_If I remember right._

Something welled up in Steve’s chest, and he was miserably afraid he was about to start sobbing. Instead, the swell pushed up and out of him until it revealed itself as a big, old-fashioned belly laugh.

“God, Buck, you always had _the worst_ sense of humor.”

The Soldier didn’t exactly laugh, but a lot of the tension went out of the darkness, and he didn’t protest the name. He didn’t acknowledge it, either, but still.

It felt like a win to Steve.

When his chuckles cycled down, he slumped back against the headboard. “Sorry. I can’t see if you’re scowling at me right now, but I’m glad you didn’t leave while I was… indisposed.”

After a moment’s not-uncomfortable quiet, the Soldier spoke, sounding genuinely hesitant for the first time, instead of just careful of his words.

“You never did ask.”

The old fondness rushed through him. “So you’re a vampire now? You have to be invited in?”

Either his eyes were adjusting to the dark, or the starlight had brightened just enough to make out the wry expression on Bucky’s features.

“C'mon, Buck. Or whoever you are. You’ll always be welcome wherever I am. You know that, or you wouldn’t be here now.” He grinned and ducked his head. “I didn’t exactly get a two-bedroom apartment because I needed the storage space, ya know?”

And still, the Soldier didn’t speak. However, Steve had no doubt his old friend was smirking in the dark. Bucky had always been better at waiting things out than Steve had been. Part of what made him an unparalleled sniper.

Sighing, he gave in completely. “Fine, you jerk. Will you stay?”

“Took ya long enough, punk.”

Shaking his head and grinning ear to ear, he scooted back down into his own body heat spot and fluffed up his pillow, turning onto his side to get comfortable. “Take the stupid with you into the other room. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

“You do need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

He smirked and closed his eyes, letting his old friend have the last word, though he would never have done so in their shared past. Except, as soon as the Soldier scooted back off the bed and headed for the door, he couldn’t resist saying one last thing. Not a last word. Just… one more thing.

“Hey, Buck?”

The Soldier froze, but Steve didn’t think it was a bad thing.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

After a long moment, Bucky sighed. “I think I am, too.”

“G'night.”

“Yeah.”

Smiling, Steve Rogers fell asleep, knowing the most deadly assassin in the world was just across the hall. Finally.


	2. Puppy Eyes - Steve and Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for [fadedink](http://istandwithsgtbarnes.tumblr.com/), because sometimes, things don't stop because you want them to.

“No.”

“But, Steve–”

“NO.”

Bucky pouted, making devastating use of those eyes and that mouth. “You never say no to me.”

Inhaling deeply, Steve visibly steadied himself. “I don’t like saying no to you, Buck, but no means no.”

Scowling now, James Buchanan Barnes reached for the moon. He deployed… the puppy.

“Okay, you can say no to me, but _how can you say no to this face??_ ”

Cringing, Captain America in jeans and a t-shirt that strained at the seams looked away. “Stop that!”

Scrunching his face up against the adorable dark grey puppy’s wrinkly cheek, Bucky pouted again. “C’mon, Cap! He’s already in love. You can see it in his big, blue eyes. Hey, who else has big blue eyes?”

Teeth gritting, Steve determinedly _did not look_. “You do.”

“And so do you! See, Stevie? It’s meant to be.”

The puppy licked his cheek, catching the corner of his bottom lip, and he grinned, smooching it back. As he looked up to keep pleading, he broke into a laugh at the poleaxed expression on Steve’s face.

Apparently, the good captain had caught the whole exchange.

“So… puppy food’s in aisle three, right? And we need those puppy training pads. Oh! Gotta get a personalized collar! Can we name him Winter? Or is that too on the nose?”

Steve sighed heavily. “Yeah, Buck. Whatever you want.”

And that… well, that deserved a kiss. From both of them.


	3. A BROTP Is Born - Wanda and Rhodey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie: I wrote this one solely to write Rhonda. It's for [brenda](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/), but mostly because of [this exchange](http://gutterballgt.tumblr.com/post/128218513362/i-love-everyone-in-this-bar) on tumblr.

“You look nervous.”

Wanda jerked to attention, trying not to be intimidated by the good colonel and failing. Colonel Rhodes put his hands up and smiled crookedly. He didn’t look nearly as large outside the War Machine suit, but she could never forget the might of the military standing figuratively behind him. Or that he was Tony Stark’s best friend. And a superhero and a war hero.

Generally, he was everything she was not.

“Whoa, there. I swear, I’m not armed.”

Blushing and completely out-of-sorts, she tried to smile. Failed. “Forgive me, colonel. I… you just startled me. I’m sorry.”

“None of that, now.” The colonel shook his head. “We’re a team. The name is Rhodey, not ‘colonel’.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, thank you, sir, but I cannot–”

“Did I ever tell you about the time Tony made me blow on his dice at a casino in Vegas?”

She blinked, speechless.

“Do you think he ever calls me Colonel Rhodes? The man wanted me to _blow_ on his _dice_.”

Her blush deepened, but her mouth twitched with a hint of a smile for the first time all day. All week. Since she’d found herself part of this strange team instead of standing against it.

Since Pietro….

But he was healing. She reminded herself daily – hourly sometimes – and it was a joint effort between Dr. Cho and Tony Stark, and she was grateful, and she would do her part.

Even if it meant calling the highly-decorated colonel… Rhodey.

Apparently, he saw her softening expression because he grinned. “That’s better. I promise we’re not gonna eat you, okay? Tony has some pretty exotic food tastes, but I don’t think he’s gone full cannibal yet. And Cap… well, he’s more a roast and potatoes kind of guy. And apple pie, of course.”

Her lips twitched, and she felt her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Sam’s pararescue, so he’s definitely not into eating people, considering how much of their insides he’s seen on the outside over the years.” He cringed a little too obviously for it to be a real cringe. “So you’re definitely safe from him.” His head tilted and he crossed his arms. “Romanoff, now… if there was ever a person on the team capable of eating someone alive, it’d definitely be the Black Widow.”

To her shock, she felt herself shaking her head with borderline disapproval. Thankfully, the colonel only shrugged.

“Luckily, I have it on good authority that she likes you. Well, that Hawkeye likes you, which is basically the same thing. She trusts his judgment, and he trusts you.”

Her chin tilted up and she considered what he wasn’t saying as much as what he was. She didn’t always have to read minds to know what people were thinking, after all, and she had tried her best not to be rude and peek without permission or consent.

So, she tilted her head a bit and dared to ask a question. “Why are you here, col… Rhodey?”

Suddenly, he beamed at her, and she couldn’t help but be pleased to have pleased him so. “Because I’ve been Tony Stark’s friend half my life, and there are times _I’ve_ been tempted to sic a murderbot on him. So, out of everyone here, I probably understand the best how awkward you’re feeling right about now, living here on his dime and with his equipment.”

Her breath caught. “I thought I was the psychic, sir.”

He gave her a disapproving look.

Blushing again, she ducked her head. “Rhodey.”

“Better. And it doesn’t take a psychic to know it isn’t easy to realize that the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and to join that frenemy in the fight and hope for the best.”

Tentatively, she looked up at him and tried another smile. This one worked better. “It… is very strange, yes.”

“You think you got it strange?” He strode closer and astonished her further by putting an arm around her shoulders and walking them over to the window bank to stand in the afternoon sunlight. “You should’ve seen the awkward after I stole one of his Iron Man suits, gave it to the government, let his jerk competitor hook it up with ordnance, then had to sit inside it like a veal in a pen when some crazy Russian overrode the programming and used it to try to kill him.”

She blinked, not sure she had followed all of that but oddly unconcerned about the heavy arm over her shoulders. It felt like… something Pietro would have done. Would do again. When he healed.

It felt… comfortable. Comforting.

“I’m not kidding even a little bit. I kept warning him every time I got tone, but I was basically having an out of body experience where I was trying to stop myself from killing my best friend. Thank God he didn’t hold it against me later. Even let me keep the suit.”

His hand gently squeezed the nape of her neck, and she suddenly understood.

The colonel… Rhodey… was telling her that Stark, for all of his character faults and God complex and righteous mistrust in her and her brother for what they did to get their revenge on him… would forgive her. Wouldn’t hold her misguided meddling against her.

Feeling lighter suddenly than she had in days, she finally smiled fully up at him. “Tell me more about how you beat up Tony Stark with one of his own suits. I like to hear this.”

Rhodey laughed. “I knew I liked you for a reason. There was this other time–”

They stood in the sun filtering in from the windows for a long time, standing close together and sometimes elbowing each other for more details, and by the end of the day, Wanda Maximoff felt… like she was part of the team. Part of Rhodey’s team – which, from all the stories, she knew was also Tony Stark’s team.

But somehow, that was all right now.

She… was home.


	4. That Old, Familiar Feeling - Steve and Thor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also for [Brenda](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/), because of [this photoset on tumblr](http://gutterballgt.tumblr.com/post/133578812772/for-brendaonao3-because-she-wanted-steve). She wanted a fic of Steve braiding Thor's hair. Who am I to resist? It's not really the Thundershield she wanted, but I tried.

It became a thing. No one commented on it.

Anytime Thor was able to stick around the Tower for longer than an hour or two, sooner or later, he would find himself sitting cross-legged on the floor of the common room in front of one of the over-plush couches, Steve behind him on the couch.

Braiding Thor’s hair.

No one knew how it started. Did a braid come loose during a mission, at which point Steve came to the rescue with heretofore unsuspected braiding proficiency? Was there anything Captain America couldn’t do?

The other Avengers may never know.

Mostly because Thor and Steve had The Conversation the third time Thor found himself cozied up between Steve’s thighs with Steve’s nimble, artist’s fingers effortlessly arranging his hair.

“I do appreciate this, Captain.”

“Seriously. Just Steve. We’re not in the field right now, and you’re my friend.” Thor could almost hear the smirk in the rest of the rebuttal. “Unless, of course, you want me to only address you as Odinson.”

“You make an excellent point.” He paused deliberately, smiling. “Steve.”

“Better.”

They were quiet for some minutes as the good captain tied off one braid and started in on the other side. While Thor usually enjoyed silence, as he found so little of it anywhere else, he had become more and more curious over the relatively short span he’d known his loyal and valiant friend.

“Steve?”

“Mm?”

“Might I ask where you learned such a talent?”

Again, he heard the smirk in the captain’s voice and acknowledged that Captain Rogers’ “sass”, as Darcy called it, was one of his favorite things about the man.

“Are you asking where a big strong jock like me learned the girlie talent of braiding hair?”

Thor shrugged. “Indeed not, friend. I wish I had such a skill. I could actually dress myself in the morning, had I ever learned it.”

The captain snorted, then actually laughed, and Thor felt victorious. Steve Rogers did not laugh often. It was a treasured sound in the Tower, and everyone tended to mark each occasion with great enthusiasm.

“Only you, Thor.” Another snort. “But to answer your question – and mine, I guess – I wasn’t always a big strong jock type, as you know. And… well… Bucky’s little sister and I were… I don’t really know how to describe it.”

Hesitant for fear Steve would stop talking – the captain often closed off when probed too deeply about something he wasn’t ready to talk about – Thor kept his voice calm and uninflected. “You were… in love?”

Another laugh, this one more a surprised bark than the rich chuckles from before. “God no!” The captain shook his head, a smile in his voice. “No, Becca and I were never… we just… we had a lot in common.”

Careful. Oh, so careful here. “Such as…?”

Those nimble fingers stilled. “…We both loved her brother.”

Thor’s eyes closed. He would have hung his head if he weren’t afraid of pulling the unfinished braid from the captain’s fingers.

“And we both worried about him. So when she was particularly scared by the war coverage in the newspapers and was terrified that Bucky would be drafted any day and sent away to die somewhere she’d never get him back, she’d come over to our apartment, sit on the floor just like this, and ask me to braid her hair. It… made her feel better.” The captain swallowed hard, fingers still and body tense. “Made me feel better, too.”

Nodding carefully, Thor remained silent. After a while, Steve went back to quietly braiding.

And after that night, any time Thor was around the Tower for more than an hour or two, he found a chance to slip away from the others, sit on the floor in front of one of the couches, and ask Steve to braid his hair.

It was their thing.

No one commented on it.


End file.
